


Bad Liars and Spec Ops

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, BAMF Stiles, Cute Derek Hale, Derek Hale as Superman, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: When Stiles comes back from her sixth tour with the Special Forces, she moves into Metropolis with her best friend, Scott. She picks up a job as a "source" for the Daily Planet.As soon as she meets Derek Hale, a beefy but meek and shy reporter, she knows something's not right about him. The problem will be getting anyone to believe her theory.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	1. Career Paths

Stiles, as soon as she was eligible, went right into the Reg Force. Her father wasn't super enthused about her choice, but he didn't have much room to speak, what with his own background in law enforcement. 

So, she joined early and threw herself into it. It wasn't long before she was picked out of the crowd for being nosy and relocated to the SpecOps division. 

Joint Task Force 2 was hardly a joke, and she lost contact with her father and her best friend for the better part of four years while she served overseas. Her fireteam partner, Chris Argent, became closer to her than any living being on the planet, and saw her through her worst moments. A decade and some her senior, Argent had become her family and she his during their tours in Afghanistan and Syria. Their deployment to Gaza was perhaps the worst year and a half of her life, and she only had him to thank for seeing her through. 

But ten years in JTF2 and sixteen overall in the Forces had taken its toll on her, and after their last clusterfuck with MOSIL, both Stiles and Chris had stepped down. 

Chris went back to Québèc, living with his adult daughter Allison, though he kept in contact with her. 

Stiles returned, too, to her sleepy little town in Ontario, but she just couldn't find it inside herself to settle. She would drive around at all hours of the night, restless and anticipating a strike that never seemed to come. 

Then her dad passed away, and there was nothing tying her down. 

"Allison said she'd be more than willing to let you live with us." Chris told her over a call. He's let his beard grow in, but kept it shorter than it had been on deployment. He was tanned rather than sunburnt and sand-scrubbed, looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him. "But I don't know how well you'd deal with it. It's nice and quiet out here, even if the winters are a little brutal."

"I appreciate it. Definitely keep the guest bedroom clean for my visits." She stared down at her sparse, childhood sheets her dad had never had the heart to change. "But you're right. I'm going nuts here."

"Hold on." Chris pulled away from the phone. " _Quoi_ , Allison?"

His daughter said something back to him, which was too muddled for Stiles to make out. Thanks to Chris, she'd learned to swear well in French and understand it fluently, even if her spoken word needed some help. 

"Allison says she has a friend in the States, Lydia Martin, who's looking for a source contact."

"What's that?"

"Uses her budget from the newspaper to pay you to find what she's looking for."

"I could do that."

Chris' warm laugh melted her a little bit. His steadfastness had been an anchor for her the last decade. "I know, otherwise I wouldn't have offered. She's in Metropolis, though."

"Yeah, no problem." She frowned. "I don't really want to be here anymore, anyway. It's not right without my dad."

"I understand, kiddo." Chris reassured, voice was warm and heavy has his hand on the back of her neck used to be. 

"Plus, Scott's down that way."

"Well, there you go. Problem solved."

"I guess so."

"Stiles?" Oh, that was Allison's voice. She must be on speaker now. 

" _Oui?_ "

"It's going to be okay." Allison blew a kiss into the phone. 

She choked back tears. "Thanks."

"You're always welcome here." Allison said. "No matter what. _Père_ has his own car now, so he can collect you from the airport."

"Just offer my services." Chris grumbled, good-natured. 

" _Arrête, Père_." Allison smacked Chris, probably on the shoulder. "My house my rules."

"Yes, ma'am." Stiles and Chris joked at the same time. 

"Impossible, you two." 

"Hey, Allison?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell Lydia I'll take the job."

"I will." Allison's voice went gentle. "Seriously, you're welcome here."

"I know." She swallowed. "I appreciate it. But I need to go."

"I know."

* * *

Scott was more than pleased to rent her the other room in his apartment - not only did he get his best friend close at hand, but only half the rent? Almost as good.

Stiles was definitely different from how he remembered her, though not really in any physical capacity. She was 5' 10", slender but in a lean way and just as pale and mole-dotted as ever (though there were notably more freckles). No, what was different about Stiles came in her actions - the way she double-checked locks and window seals without even being aware she was doing it, the way she had all of her stuff neatly organized and coincidentally ready to move at a moment's notice. She watched everyone when she walked the streets, scanning constantly, but no one who hadn't known her since diapers would be able to tell. She always carried knives on her person, and she had six pistols hidden around the apartment. 

Stiles had seen unforgivable things in the army, and Scott knew he couldn't push her, lest she never speak to him about any of it. 

They were two Canadians from vastly different career paths converging together. He was a vet tech and she- well, he wasn't really sure what she was doing, other than it involved the city's newspaper. Stiles was tight-lipped and more prone to long silences now than her ADHD would formerly allow. 

Oh well. He had his childhood friend back and they got to live together. He would put up with any weird quirks she might have if it made her feel more at ease.

* * *

Lydia Martin worked for Metropolis' Daily Planet, alongside two other star reporters, Lois Lane and Derek Hale. Lydia, however, seemed to be their editor and source verification expert, so any illicit information they needed, Lydia would be the one to direct her. 

"It's a fifteen thousand dollar monthly retainer." Lydia explained, her perfectly manicured fingernails tapping the contract. "You will be paid over and above for actual assignments and travel costs will be covered. Situations we will send you into can be dangerous and incriminating. We will not be responsible for bailing you out of danger or protecting you in the case of a lawsuit."

"Play to win, got it." She replied, keeping steady eye-contact with the intimidating woman. 

The statement made Lydia smile. "Allison was definitely right about you. There are also no health benefits, but you're still a Canadian citizen, so that shouldn't be an issue. What you have to do to obtain scouted information is to be kept to yourself so we can maintain plausible deniability. You will always be listed as an anonymous source and your name will never feature in any documents other than this one. The only people you are to hand information off to are myself, Lois and Derek."

"Crystal clear, ma'am."

"Good. Take this home and read it, thoroughly, then return tomorrow with it signed if you want the job." Lydia stood. "Oh, and Miss Stilinski?"

"Yes?"

"Nice to meet you."


	2. Sneaking Suspicions

Now, Stiles may be an idiot, but she's far from stupid. When you're a infanteer, a certain amount of moron is expected, even encouraged. 

For instance, she once watched Chris attempt to eat a protein bar with the wrapper on, and mostly succeed. He didn't manage to finish because they got mortared, but he was gonna, and she reminds him of that whenever they're around granola of any description. _But,_ Chris was also the best sniper in his unit even before JTF2, and only survived the mortar that took his protein bar because he heard the whistling and threw them both into the trench before he'd even consciously recognized what it was. 

Chris was fond of reminding her of the one time she had been zoned out and got so mesmerized by a fire they'd started that she almost fell into it. _But_ , she was their field engineer, and a deadshot within a hundred metres. Never had a gun jam she couldn't fix, nor one of her personal weapons jam or lock. 

So, they were both morons, but neither of them were stupid, and that ingrained training and natural talent had saved their asses all across the world. That anti-stupidity also inclined them to be naturally observant, both to keep them alive and to get the enemy targets dead. 

Therefore, when she met Derek Hale to drop off information about a dirty politician, she took one look at his stupidly perfect face, oddly luminescent eyes and broad, strong frame hidden under ill-fitting clothes, her immediate reading was _Yup, he's Superman._

"Oh!" He jolted, an automatic smile coming to his lips. "You're quiet. You must be the Miss Stilinski Lydia told us about."

"That's me. And Stiles is fine, mate." She offered him her hand and he took it, his grip carefully firm without being too overbearing. The grip of someone used to having to control their strength. 

"I'm Derek, Derek Hale. I'm part of the investigative journalism department, along with Lois Lane and our editor, Lydia Martin."

"Lydia let me know who I'm to report to, rest assured."

He frowned and cocked his head. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nah. I'm Canadian. From one of those one-intersection type towns in Ontario."

"If- If you don't mind me asking, what led you here?"

"Friend's daughter heard Lydia needed someone with my skills, and I needed something to do."

"Ah, well." He clapped his hands together. "Lydia did say I'm not supposed to ask how you got the info, just that you have something we need."

"Well, you're in luck." She produced a manilla envelope. "This is what you need for Senator McConnell."

Derek's eyes went wide. "Lydia didn't say she had given you a target already."

"She didn't." She pointed to his open laptop. "I saw your research on the way out. Consider this a resume, and let Lydia know she's in good hands."

"Wow." Derek dropped back into his chair, floored. "Okay, I will."

"Cool." She shoved her hands into her pockets. "Any other story on the periphery you need info for or . . . ?"

"Uh, not right now, but Lois-"

"Yeah, I got stuff for her too about the police-run child sex trafficking ring."

Derek's pretty green-hazel-gold eyes managed to blow even wider, his bushy-ass eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "Oh, wow. What did you do before this?"

She offered a tight smile in return. "Most of my former career is classified."

"By all means then, keep it to yourself." He didn't seem offended by her answer, maybe even a little bit proud of her gumption and commitment. "Are you still a Canadian citizen?"

She laughed. "Hell yeah. No offense, but I don't wanna live in this hellhole."

"It's not so bad." He shrugged. "Maybe it'll grow on you."

She smirked. "I'd rather not lose my house because I broke my leg, thanks."

He laughed, warm and sweet. "Yeah, that is a downside." His smile made him seem adorable, kindly and open. "Lois is out right now, so you can drop off what you have for her in her IN tray."

"Thanks. See ya around, Hale."

"Wait!" When she turned back around, he was standing, running a bashful hand through his hair. "Feel like a coffee? I'll buy."

"Don't think one coffee will make me your best friend."

"How about two, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure. Get your shit together while I drop this off."

"Yes, of course."

| | | 

Derek was a bumbling ball of nerves, though he managed to remain charming and folksy throughout. 

Stiles wasn't fooled. 

She knew what Superman looked like - odds are she could find out Batman too, if she put her mind to it. It wasn't hard to take one look at Derek, mentally delete the glasses and see Superman, right there. 

It was even more obvious if you knew what tells to look for. 

He was always very careful with everything he touched, but in a long-suffering, well-practiced fashion that was so ingrained it was second nature. He was kindly to everyone he spoke to and very accommodating. He twitched when he heard sharp noises, like breaking plates or shattering glasses, though it was very minimal. He stared at her, blinking far too slowly, his attention rapt and interested. He also wasn't twitchy _enough,_ as in he didn't adjust himself, didn't switch positions other than to do something. 

Sometimes, she wondered how stupid people really were, especially superhuman aliens.

* * *

"Scott!"

"Hey man, no yelling!"

"Sorry." Her and Chris yelled in greeting to each other every time. Old habits die hard. "Know how I've been in Metropolis like, a week and a half?"

"Yeah?"

"I know who Superman is."

He spun around on the couch, his cat jumping off his lap in huff. "No shit."

"Yeah."

"Who?"

"One of the people I report to, Derek Hale."

"Derek Hale? Like, the one from the Daily Planet?"

"Uh-huh."

Scott's face screwed up. "I think you're off your meds, Stiles."

"Are you serious?!" She burst ou, rounding the couch. "Bro, they look fuckin' identical!"

"Okay, they look alike, but Derek's the softest dude in the world."

"Explain the muscles."

"He grew up on a farm in Kansas? I dunno."

"Wait," She leaned over, studying him, "how do you know him?"

Scott leaned back. "This is really creepy, dude."

"Scott . . . "

"He brings in strays he finds sometimes. Pays to get them fixed up. Pretty sure he send them back to his parents' farm."

She stared at him long enough and hard enough that he began to flush and squirm. "Alright, I believe you."

"Uh, good?"

She stood straight and walked away. 

Her work so far wasn't much, and she wouldn't get deployed again for at least a couple days. Time to get back into passion projects.

She printed off two pictures, one of Superman with the press, and one of Derek. She stuck them on a cork board opposite each other, tied a red string around the two tacks holding them up, and sat back. 

"Now, to prove it."


End file.
